Day 03

July 11

Tom and I roll out of bed to meet Reg and Tim for breakfast at the Perkins next door. We both order our usual - him pancakes, me omelet and pig meat. They are headed out riding one way and we are headed for Cody and Yellowstone. It's an interesting thing among STers - you might ride with a feller in West Virginia and then a few months later in South Dakota like Reg. I've ridden with Ron Epperly to Key West, in the Blue Ridge, both rims of the Grand Canyon and out to the West Coast. Guy and I have ridden lots of places together.- from New England to California and a lot of places in between. Coop and I have ridden in Wisconsin, Colorado, Nebraska, Utah and Oregon to mention a few. That's the beauty of the ST - it will take you to the places you want to go without a bunch of fussing with it. Slab or back roads it doesn't care and does both as well as most folks can ride. We talk a bit about the FriendSToc rally in West Virginia and the unfortunate crash of Keith Patterson. I told the group as I've told many folks -

"Watching Keith ride that day, he was not taking dumb chances. The storm washed some leaves out on the road in a dark corner. He just hit 'em and the front end slid out into the ditch. And trying to recover he t-boned the stump before he could get the ST out of the ditch. I can tell you when I came around that curve, I sure thought we'd just had our first dead man. Was I ever relieved that he was still with us."

We talk about the chances we take by riding, but we know that's just part of it. You try to even the odds as much as possible with proper equipment, training and watchful eyes, but there's always the chance that the next ride might be your last. When my ticket gets punched, I hope the Lord allows me to be doing something I enjoy for I cannot think of a better way of leaving this old world. It's a long way to where we're both headed, so we say our good-bye and take off. It's time for a gas stop when we get to Sheridan off of I90, so we wheel into town. Tom spots a Dairy Queen and makes a beeline for it. As we're slurping down our treats, I tell Tom -

"We're fixing to hit some beautiful roads in a bit. And once we get through Cody, we'll take the Chief Joseph Highway - it's a real treat."

I've ridden the Chief Joseph and it's a real ST road - lots of sweepers, great scenery, and altitude changes. We finally land in Cody and stop at my favorite restaurant there - Granny's.

"Don't ever eat at a restaurant named Granny's" Tom says.

"Well, last time I did it was pretty good. We stayed next door at the Uptown Motel. The guy let us park our bikes in his garage. Then we trotted over to Granny's and had supper and breakfast here."

So we mosey in and get our seats. There's a rancher sitting at a nearby table.

"Where did you come from?" he asks.

"Well, I'm from Tennessee and Tom here is from Ohio and we're headed for Alaska."

"I reckon you've sure been a ways then."

The waitress comes and I order some standard fare - meat and veggies - but Tom orders spaghetti. I think to myself "You'll be sorry" but I keep quiet. This ain't the place for Italian, just plain grub that a granny would cook. And the grannies where I come from don't cook spaghetti. So this meals turns out to be a self-fulfilling prophecy for Tom. So whenever we come to restaurant on the rest of the trip, I say -

"Man, I hope this'll be as good as Granny's!"

We hang a right and head for the north historical entrance. I wanted to take Tom to the Mammoth Hot Springs since we will be going right by them and it's a good time for a break. I remember the last time I was here - we parked at the bottom and hiked up the stairs. I tell Tom -

"There's a road to the top around here somewhere so let's see if we can find it. We can cruise right to top with a short walk to the observation platform."

I'm a bit surprised because the springs are sort of dried up compared to my last time here. But the view from the top is great and we get some good shots.

Then we wind our way out of the park to highway 89. There happens to be an ambulance in front of us, so we just kind of chase it a good clip. As the sun drops, the mayflies come out in droves and so do the deer. The bugs are so thick on the windshield you can't even look through it. It's a spirited run to Livingston where we will be spending the night and we get there none too soon. It's only 590 miles for the day, but the tension of the ride and the miles we have covered so far wear a bit on us. When we get to the room, we pull off our tired duds and start discussing about where we want to get to tomorrow. Canada is our goal and we get into the issue of getting across the border. The discussion gets a bit 'warm' - 2 fellers with strong wills often have strong differences of opinion and this is no exception. Tom decides he might just ride on by himself. I figure

"Well, I'm a big boy and I can sure get to Alaska by my self, I reckon."

I turn out the lights but my heart won't let me leave at that. One of my life's goals is to leave people and places a little better than I found them. I just failed miserably over a bunch of nothing cause I'm tired. I know what I've gotta do so I turn the light back on, sit up on the bed -

"Tom, I'm sorry for acting like that and ask you to please accept my apology."

He does and the tension begins to melt away. Looks like we'll be keeping together after all. We both drift off into a slumber, ready for the next day and what it will bring…